Infiltrated Poems | Examples

Infiltrated

Infiltrated is what I rate it
the taking of our government raided
The voice of the President, 
"It's gold plated."
Yet the relief of a nation
Is being impatiently waited

Jannes and Jabrese the officials they sent
Without anyone knowing what they represent
The ceasure of records, control 
and the moneys being spent 
All the good causes good government would grant

The poor and the widow  are under attack
But I know one thing that they lack
The Moses of today will fight with the facts
And an army will drown at the seas collaps

It won't be long, this vicious attack
Those who are out numbered
will be trapped like rats
And justice will be bragging "I'm back, I'm back!"

Teamwork

       Ornery welcomed
          Persnickety aboard 
       Stubborn manned the wheel

       Mischief infiltrated
          Nooks and crannies  
     
        Teamwork sank
          ~ the ship piecemeal

Todai

another day of misty thoughts
infiltrated by illusions

Creases Huitain

Infiltrated each other’s soul,
now we are a complete image;
Neither of us given control,
conduits for this right of passage;
Restless responds to a cajole,
yes we are mosaic pieces;
The vision makes sense as a whole,
seamlessly blended soft creases.

CRY OF THE SIMPLE MAN

I wail the cry of the simple man
Who toils night and day
Ne’er knowing that disasters can fall 
On those who have no worldly ax to grind 

Cries can be heard throughout history
Not by those who instigate the killing fields
But by those whose hearts are not moved by mayhem 
Or blood splattered on children’s prayers 

How far we have come in the centuries since time began
And war only tells us how far we still have to go
To unspoil this earth we received clean and pure  
A planet graciously given to us by the universal Divine 

Man! Man! Humanity! Where is your intelligence?
Has the promise of conquering fictional lands infiltrated your mind?
Lands never yours only felt on your brittle mind of yore?
Has your ego been blinded by your need to satisfy an insatiable avarice?

War, the bane of Man’s darkest side
War must end or the planet will have the last laugh
No man can survive such calamitous chaos
man's nine lives are about used up and there are no more

And if Man can't stop the insanity 
maybe only God can save him … MAYBE
if God has a mind to
if He is not pissed enough already.

What’s left of me

What would happen in the absence of my presence? I directed my gaze towards her, resting my head on her lap, and met her eyes. The depths of my heart would consume itself, seeking to alleviate the anguish caused by separation. Subsequently, my mind would assume control, becoming the sole arbiter of all emotional experiences. It would sense a profound sense of betrayal and transmit this message to the cells, causing them to agitate restlessly, unsure of who would facilitate the circulation of blood through the vessels. With the heart absent, the mind irrational, the cells frenzied, and the nerves severed, it would only be a matter of time before a fleeting and ominous thought infiltrated, whispering catastrophic conclusions. The heart, unable to quicken its pace to instill fear, the nervous system incapable of perceiving pain, the mind preoccupied to the point of neglect, and the cells having identified the body as their adversary – all these factors would culminate in my loss of functionality. Ultimately, in my state of non-functionality, I would cease to exist.

Under a Bridge on a Hot Summer's Day

There are few places now
where life can find respite
on hot summer days.
Shady spaces are contested
real estate beneath trees
and in the shallow waters under
a bridge where countless
plump, pink jellyfish congregate
to hide from the heat.

Thousands gather, pulsing
in the warm brine. They look
like brains that have escaped
from skulls, their severed 
spinal cords now lethal
clumps of thread hanging down
to entangle the unwary.
The species is thriving
in the warming waters.

These jellyfish have no eyes
to see ahead. To them, 
all is now by nudge
and touch. No thoughts 
of consequence or compassion
trouble their gelatinous will,
no desire to share
halts their inexorable spread.
To them there is only 
an unquestionable need.
They have infiltrated our space,
children of our kind,
servants to a common greed.

Oh black African

Oh, you African!
 Of cocoa skin and black-haired 
Like your judgments 

You African!
 The lamb in the elections 
Son of the people, wandering in the dying neighborhoods
With your sweet and spoken worldly pretentions 
Hiding your ties, leaning of lions

 Uou African, black as the charcoal 
Of heart as the darkness 
looks at the White! look at the glitter!
but you left the moodle 
Ignored the guides, the witchcraft
And infiltrated yourself in the Avé Mariah 
Becoming despaganized Christian 

 why did you lie to us? Why? 
Why did you hide yourself, why?
 Why did you steal our wills? 
You are not lamb, You are  black wolf 
We are already sinners to burn 
This hell and the upcoming
 And the flames of worms, dead alive 

Ah! Revered Beloved Black
 Heavy are your sins both hidden as revealed 
that they rise with the clamour 
 Of the pregnant women, the virgins and the young men
Without bread,  water, without light 
And you there in your sublime throne glittering 
But only a king has his throne, Jesus the Narazeth 
And this is not thou, black brother

Industrial Dispute

Santa stood in the warehouse
Full of nearly empty shelves
Last night they’d been ram raided
By a bunch of discontented elves

Recently infiltrated and recruited 
Into an association of packing staff
Whose ideas and demands and wants
Caused Santa to cynically laugh.
He could have held out for longer
That much was very clear
But the clever blighters
Had subverted his reindeer

To make matters even worse
Pushing poor Santa to the edge
The blighters had gone and clamped
His only working sledge

Only thirty days to Christmas
He knew of no other way
Than to meet their demands
For increased shift working pay
He’d do what it took
To bring things back on track
And ensure he had enough 
To fill his mammoth sack

He reached for the Gordon’s
For one last large stiff gin
Then went to arbitration
With a forced and fixed grin

Poisonous and Polished

Venomous eloquence, 
so polite and yet cold;
Pleasantries are plastic  
tone sometimes mistaken;
Quiet not dramatic;

Venomous eloquence,
answer’s already known;
Words are a figurehead;
Each one is meaningless, 
your heart infiltrated;

Venomous eloquence  
it leaves your throat sticky;
Esophagus left trashed,
innards being spit up;
Poisonous and polished.

Once Bitten - No Alibi

A bag of spiders, two toxic frogs
Stolen, according to the police logs

I know this thief was none too bright
By opening the bag in broad daylight

A black widow bit her on the thumb
To poison she would soon succumb

Toxins infiltrated deep into her brain
Sending her loopy, she’s quite insane

According to all the medical logs
She’s as crazy as a box of frogs

Restrained for life on a psycho ward
Her sanity can never  be restored

Strapped into a chair writing poetry
How do I know, alas the thief was me!

Bag of Spiders Poetry Contest

Sponsored by Matt Caliri

06/04/23

The Tyranny of Noise

Voices no longer talk but yell.
Angry legions, carrying banners
along burning streets,
have infiltrated the Temple quiet
with the unholy noise of hell. 
Rage has been elevated 
to the status of virtue, 
division into a hymn.

Soon, fiery eyed militia,
banging their drums, 
will be knocking on your door 
to present a warrant 
to enter your head.
Find a hatch somewhere
into the still 
of an inner space
and escape, safe 
from the marauding mob
tearing silence apart,
laying waste the State
in the name 
of their rowdy god.

Cul-De-Sac

There are times when my thoughts make me dizzy.
What day is it?  Did I forget to make an appointment?
My mind becomes so boggled that I'm thrown into a tizzy,
knowing more hours in a day is the healing ointment.

Rushing around in circles, but not getting anywhere.
If I try to travel too fast, I feel like I'm in a cul-de-sac,
repeatedly missing my exit before I'm even aware
that I'm a freight train roaring down the same track.

Houses in the crescent curve are just empty facades.
Sometimes I have trouble recalling which one is mine.
It's confusing to live in a world infiltrated with frauds
and continue to think, "Everything's gonna be just fine."

Cul-de-sacs have only one way in and the same way out,
but when pressing anxieties of life get me distracted,
I'm a pugilist hugging the ropes, sadly losing the bout.
It's time for circular streets to be rezoned or redacted.


February 23, 2023
This or That, Vol 16 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh

She Smelled Like Old Spice

The 1965 Chevy Impala with aqua dice
parked herself downhill against all advice
From Frankie, Old Tom, Red Angus and Swanee Bryce
Her wheels slipped on gravel that felt like hardened rice

Her green interior smelled like Old Spice
Her engine was infiltrated by squeaky hungry mice
Some main wires under her hood now have a splice
Her ignition key did not work once or twice

We could not sell her at any price
But we loved the smell of nineteen sixties Old Spice
For it reminds me of my Uncle Pete, dad of cousin Bryce
So I am keeping her forever, which feels kind of nice.

Similitude

They were in her mind,
She pencilled them in her heart,
They came forth from her,
Asimov’s children, 
She bore them,
One after other came forth,
Generation after generation,
They were transformed,
There was a transition,
 Artificial intelligence hit the
 the crescendo of the technology world,
It has held bound in the corners of the world,
It infiltrated the realms of space,
Agile robots and androids
 interface with humans,
Humans are overly
 dependent on them,
The laws of robotics 
have their shortcomings,
So also robots are flawed beings.
They are no match for humans,
Despite their pitfalls and stumblings.




March 29, 2022.

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